Unnamed
by CrispenRaptitties
Summary: Perseus is an Unnamed. A mysterious young man from 'The Unnamed Lands', a Continent few have ever seen. Captured after his parents abandon him, he is forced into Gladiatorial slavery in Rome. Untrained in the 'Essence', his Demigod powers are useless. But when people notice his strange hand tattoo, his luck might just change. AU with heavy OOC. WARNING, VERY VIOLENT.
1. Guards

**DISCLAIMER** I do not Own Percy Jackson and the Olympians, Everything in this story bar the Plot, and a few Characters belongs to Rick Riordan.

 **Also, Feel free to review your thoughts on anything, I'd like to hear what I've done well as this is pretty much my first ever Fanfic. Additionally, criticisms both expected and welcomed, I'd also love to hear what I'm NOT doing well etc.**

 _ **Chapter 1 -**_

The sound of sandals crunching sand hit the end of the Cavern. It continued endlessly, accompanied by the repeated clink of dripping water hitting solid rock. A grunt echoed to the right, as simultaneously the left coughed.

"Where is the Unnamed?"

A voice whispered hurriedly by the torch at the door. Excitement and Anticipation corrupted by Fear and Anxiety.

"Chain'd at e Back Lord. Causin' Trubble wif the others he is"

The incoherent drawl of the head guard. Not a true Roman, but if you said as much his club could leave more than a small bruise.

"A word?"

The clinking continued its repetitive tune.

Finally, "Don't get close t the bars Lord, known t'use Essence at'times"

More Sand crunched under Sandals, until a squat man in a white toga peered from under a hood through the metal bars.

The man squinted, attempting to obtain a better view.

"You". Silence.

" _Slave_. I know you speak Latin". Irritation and Arrogance.

The clinking beat returned

"I offer life, for knowledge"

"Not the Brightest Lord" White Toga glanced at the chuckling guard in further irritation.

"I don't have time for this boy. You fight tomorrow."

After a moment of silence, another cough sounded to the left, Followed by a resigned sigh from the white toga.

"If tomorrow you live, I will again seek you out. If you speak of Greece on your Land, you will be freed" Awaiting some facial response, white toga stood by the bars for several short moments, before turning and shuffling away.

Sandals crunching sand continued for a brief while, until the Cavern returned to a tranquil melody of clinks, coughs and grunts.

-0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0-

Fingering the tattoo on his hand, the Sea green-eyed man glanced at the rock walls incarcerating him. If he had training, he'd be walking through these walls as if they were air.

Unfortunately he hadn't received any instruction on the Essence, and as such could barely lift a pebble from the floor without getting extreme head spins.

The man was tall and well built, had darkly tanned skin, and a mane of matted black hair down to his shoulders.

Glancing up, he peered at the metal rods buried into the sand on the other side of the bars. The rods were meant to absorb any Essence used within a radius of them.

As if they needed them, he wasn't half as dangerous as a Demigod.

"Ready yet?"

The Guard smugly stared from behind the safety of the cell.

Without asking, several others appeared around him, holding metal chains, each link inscribed with a single rune.

Binding Chains, for preventing Demigods access to the Essence.

Entering the room with caution, they edged toward him.

The man simply turned and faced the corner, rather that than fight and hinder his chances later.

A loud crack sounded across the cell, and the dark haired man felt a sting in the back of his head.

-OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO-

Blinding light burst through closed lids, but it was the sudden impact with solid ground that roused him.

Reaching behind a blood caked skull, The large figure ran fingers through clumped and crusty hair, before the tips of fingers rested on a huge cluster of dried blood. Wincing in pain, he pressed fingers into the clump, trying to test the injury.

A geyser of red fluid started spewing from the skull.

"Shit, cover that up quick" a gruff voice to the right stated.

Turning to the noise, an ageing man tore a corner of his rag and passed it over.

"Thanks"

The Ageing man glanced at the bloody figure in shock, then the tattoo on his hand for a moment, before he turned his attention to their surroundings.

"Might want to hurry up, otherwise you'll have six more cracks to worry about"

Finally surveying the area while tying the rag around his forehead, the man recoiled from the sight.

They were standing in the centre of a ring 500 metres across.

Rising high above the pit were thousands of people cheering and screaming.

The sun Glared angrily from above, and the tattooed man bowed his head in reverence for a brief moment.

"Perseus"

The old man looked to the younger.

"Yes, I suppose we'll be meeting him soon."

The younger man furrowed his brow.

"My name. Perseus"

The older man looked at Perseus in shock.

"But you're unnamed?"

Annoyance spread across Perseus's face.

"Perseus." He repeated.

Again, the older man appeared shocked, and raised a hand to point at the tattoo on his hand.

"Is that because of the tattoo?"

Before Perseus could respond a roughly ground triangle erupted through the old mans throat, coating a surprised face in glistening dark red sinew.

Cheers burst through the crowd and Perseus quickly got to his feet.

Men stood in groups in various stages of battle about the ring.

Bodies already littered the blood stained sand.

Scanning the floor about him, Perseus discovered the only weapon in the surrounding area.

A small shiv made from flint.

Sand scuffled behind him, and Perseus dove to the floor before him.

a moment later a sword struck the floor, but not before biting deep into Perseus' calf.

Staggering to his feet, and still feeling light headed, Perseus dashed forward, slashing the shiv right under the brim of a helmet.

The man was too shocked to respond before he collapsed, clutching at the fluid spraying from his cut throat.

Wiping the hot, sticky liquid from his eyes, Perseus lifted the fallen sword from the sand.

Noticing his Demigod blood turning a tinge of gold, he noted it had already starting to seal his newly acquired wounds, Perseus calmly paced towards a larger group of fighters.

The first man to notice Perseus wrenched his shield around just in time to hear the clank of Perseus' sword clatter of it's domed surface. Only for his previous opponent to launch his trident directly into the mans shoulder, and throw a net over his struggling foe.

Slamming the sword down through the mans chest, which gave surprisingly little resistance, Perseus turned toward his next challenger as red foam spluttered from the dying mans gurgling mouth.

Perseus couldn't her the clang of sword against sword as he swirled and weaved between swings. All he could hear was a familiar cough to his left. Only now the familiar cough was tainted with the noise of thick fluid being pumped from lungs.

Grimacing, Perseus blocked a quick downward slash before rolling towards the noise.

A deathly pale man about 16 years old leaned against a severed torso, staring down at his legs. One was missing a large chunk of it's thigh, and the other had an arrow pierced straight through the knee. Occasionally the man broke his eerie silence with another rattling cough, or to spit out some more phloem.

He didn't notice Perseus standing before him.

"get back 'ere you filthy barbarian" a deep booming voice barreled at Perseus.

Again rolling out of the way, Perseus ended slightly behind the titanic man, slashing the tendon on the back of the mans ankle.

The giant fell like a logged tree, stiff, but with eyes wide open. Panicked.

Perseus returned to the coughing man.

"Death...Or pain?"

The man finally glanced up from his deformed lower body

"pain"

Perseus sighed, but lifted the man onto his shoulders, carrying a screaming mass of flailing arms. He jogged with the man towards the edge of the arena, each step causing a small scream form his charge, but before he could reach it another Gladiator turned his attention to Perseus.

Without missing a step, Perseus threw his blade overhead, lodging it into the lower waist of the unarmored man.

Finally reaching the rim of the Arena, Perseus gently placed the coughing man down.

"Pain." he simply stated, before returning his attention to where he had left his blade, ignoring the tormented muttering and screaming from the man behind.


	2. Romans

**DISCLAIMER** I do not Own Percy Jackson and the Olympians, Everything in this story bar the Plot, and a few Characters belongs to Rick Riordan.

 **Also, Feel free to review your thoughts on anything, I'd like to hear what I've done well as this is pretty much my first ever Fanfic. Additionally, criticisms both expected and welcomed, I'd also love to hear what I'm NOT doing well etc.**

 **Chapter 2 -**

The battle was drawing to a close.

Most of the clumps of fighting had barely three or four men left.

Glancing again towards the stands, Perseus watched as throngs of passionately screaming crowds cheered on the deaths of their fellow man.

Many directed their attention towards Perseus himself, and gave a hearty chorus of support for his bloodthirsty display of physical superiority.

These Romans loved watching the Unnamed fight, marvelling at the brute nature of their fighting style.

It epitomized the Gladiator struggle, which was so different from traditional Roman warfare.

While its military trained strength in numbers and the advantage of tactics, its arena displayed vicious mayhem and destruction.

That explained why most Gladiators were Greeks or Unnamed.

Most days ended like this, Perseus achieving total victory over his peers, and feeling nothing. No remorse for the violence, no Pride for his efforts. Simply nothing.

He used to fight with a tenacity for survival, fearing death in this pit more than anything. He had been told this was unusual for an Unnamed, and had eventually come to understand why.

The more he fought, the less he felt each time he severed the link holding men to this plane of existence.

Perseus growled, tugging on the runed chain circling his neck.

Expecting his day's work to be over, he paced over to the muttering man, and began to lift him.

-0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0-

A horn blew, and the Arena suddenly quietened.

Out of the silence, a single voice boomed.

It was too loud for a mere man, and Perseus glanced at the Demigod perched under the Emperors Banner.

"Today… in 100th anniversary of the great Battle of Fort Jari, We welcome the 12th Legion"

Narrowing his eyes, Perseus remembered the words of White toga in his cell, "If tomorrow you live".

He hadn't stated that with confidence.

The Demigod continued.

"Who have the great honour of acting as the Legion led by the great General Belonius Terrus, purging Northern Rome of Greek corruption."

An enormous gate on the opposite side of the arena creaked loudly, then rose slowly. 60 men dressed in full soldiers livery marched in perfect harmony through the gates, before gathering in ranks.

In response, a gate several metres to Perseus' left also opened, and 20 odd Gladiators walked through.

Those still in groups of conflict around the arena began to rush towards their fellow gladiators, fleeing the clumps of sun-roasted corpses littering the ring.

The previous fight was forgotten as combatants from mere moments ago began to prepare for their certain death.

Many began turning to Perseus, hopeful looks in their eyes.

It was well known he was Unnamed.

He simply ignored them, turning to face their new opponent.

At their head, a man adorned with a red cloak, and a helmet with two wings on either side paced in front of the ranks, riling up his troops.

When Perseus stared for long periods, he began to notice the air around the man shimmering, warping his image slightly.

Another Demigod.

Perseus cursed, Unnamed as he was, he couldn't fight a real Demigod.

Even if he did know how to grasp the Essence, the runed chains around his neck would ensure his helplessness to his enemies Essence.

Some of his fellow Gladiators must have also noticed the Demigod man, because several were now looking at Perseus, expectant looks adorning their faced.

"Hey, I said, lets get that choker off?"

Perseus didn't answer. He rarely opened his mouth to anyone.

Several minutes passed in silent anticipation, awaiting the second horn.

The stands were beginning to get restless, screams erupting frequently.

The men who had pried Perseus had given up a while ago. After getting angry at his silence, they had eventually resigned to simply offering prayers to Ares for assistance in the fight ahead.

Finally, the force on the other side began to march forward, and the horn blew.

Luckily for the Gladiators, the Demigod waited behind, mounting an armoured horse, and simply watching the ensuring battle.

Perseus knew they had no chance.

But he decided, if he was going to die in this pit, he may as well send these bastards to the real pit.

Stalking to the side, and hastening his pace, the gladiators behind him, all pressed near backs to wall, watched in horror as someone walked _towards_ the incoming onslaught.

Along the way Perseus picked up a fallen spear, and a trident that he rammed point first into the ground a few yards behind him.

Stopping around 100 metres from the Romans, he braced himself for the fight of his life.

They were only 20 metres apart now.

Perseus could see the smug expressions on the faces of those closest to him, clearly amused at the thought of a single man fighting 60.

But Perseus had no intention of fighting 60 men at once.

 _Grab a shield_

The thought rattled through his skull.

Suddenly bursting forwards, Perseus leapt up, slamming both feet into the raised, but un-expecting shield of the left and front most soldier.

His action worked as intended, the man simply stumbled backwards, bumping into the man behind, effectively interrupting the entire tortoise formation the Romans were famous for.

Stabbing into exposed ribs of the soldier beside him, Perseus grabbed the large rectangular shield left by the dead man, blocking a slash from directly in front of him.

Dashing backward with the newly attained shield, he returned to his buried trident, while hearing cursing from behind, mingled with a morbid groaning of the stabbed man.

 _Not dead yet._

Turning in anticipation he furrowed his brow to see the rank halted, as it adjusted to the absence of a front pilum member.

 _They're untrained._

Perseus strained his ears, hearing a shuffling behind him.

Rapidly turning to new threat, he breathed a relieved sigh as he saw several gladiators had joined him.

"Get the rest."

Wide eyes were his only response.

Cursing, Perseus repeated.

"Get the rest."

A younger man nodded before running behind them.

 _Their tactics work in your favour. Buy time by ensuring they stay fairly defensive, they'll never rush you._

More of the foreign thoughts bounced around his skull.

The young man returned with a few more Gladiators, and an irritated expression. Many still stood terrified by the wall.

"Throw everything at them."

A few men looked at him confused.

"Throw."

He demonstrated, throwing his spear at a tiny gap between the slowly approaching shield wall. It made it through, but only made glancing contact.

"Slows them."

Perseus backed a while away, the other men followed.

Nodding, he then grasped his trident as several of the men began throwing retrieved fallen weapons.

Cursing began emanating from the approaching rank. None of the weapons hit flesh, but they weren't supposed to.

The surrounding crowds were growing quieter, clearly disappointed at the lack of violence.

Perseus simply stood to the side of the men throwing weapons and retreating.

Seeing an opening, He again dashed forward, lodging a single point of the trident on the side of a shield, and using the weapon as a lever, ripped to the side with natural Demigod strength.

Hearing an arm snap, and seeing bone protruding from an elbow, he swung his sword across the brow of another, punching right though the eye socket, he recoiled slightly from the gruesome sight of an almost detached eyeball. Receiving a spear point in the shoulder for his distraction, he retreated again.

Grasping the spearhead, Perseus ripped outward. A torrent of fluid sprayed forth.

The rest of the Gladiators, seeing the relative success of his effort, joined the group, and proceeded to toss discarded weapons at the romans.

A few others stood with Perseus himself, weapons held in one hand with white fingers, and the other fumbling to put helmets on.

Grimacing at a sudden sting in his shoulder, Perseus glanced at his almost enclosed wound.

Without even looking up he dashed toward the Romans again, this time with a few men to support him.

His target faltered, stopping dead, allowing those to his right to be left exposed to Perseus' companions.

Perseus, with only a sword, slammed his fist into the man's large shield, leaving a large dent, he swung his blade at the shield, chipping the side, then he kicked, and the man fell to the floor.

The surrounding Romans, too distracted by watching two men hack at the body of their fallen comrade to the side, failed to notice Perseus drag his foe from the rank.

Noticing Perseus' absence, the Gladiators retreated.

He heard a shriek, and turned to see a man only a few years his senior wince and cower beneath him.

"Take weapons. Bring dead."

Those around Perseus glanced at the man cowering, then back Perseus.

He only shrugged in return.

He turned back at the still large group of Romans before him.

A bloodcurdling scream sounded behind him, which turned to a gurgle.

A few men, now stained red, some with expressions of shock, stood beside him.

-0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0-

After another successful raid on the bewildered, and now somewhat terrified rank, Perseus surveyed their remaining legion.

Around 45 remained. Somehow they had managed to take nearly 15 of them while only losing 1 man.

Dashing forward again, an enormous crack sounded throughout the stadium.

Through his peripherals, Perseus saw a man to his right suspended in mid air by some invisible force, before being slammed into the ground.

Landing on his neck, the man's spine snapped, leaving a slumped mass on the floor.

To his left, a man collapsed, clawing at his face. Rolling to his back, Perseus saw flames spread across his contorted body, charring skin.

Suddenly a cannonball slammed into Perseus' chest, crushing his ribs, and squeezing his lungs.

Struggling to breath, and suddenly staring at a burning sun, Perseus looked down, to see no cannonball.

His body immediately began to heal his crushed torso, before he felt his arm be yanked from its socket, pulling him 30 feet to his left. Crumpled on the floor, he felt and saw golden liquid start to dribble from his eyes, pooling around his forehead.

Looking up, Perseus saw every Gladiator originally standing with him either on the floor, or being sliced apart by Romans, who had finally broken their formation.

Glancing to his right, he saw a winged helmet stalking towards him.


	3. Runes

**DISCLAIMER** I do not Own Percy Jackson and the Olympians, Everything in this story bar the Plot, and a few Characters belongs to Rick Riordan.

 **Also, Feel free to review your thoughts on anything, I'd like to hear what I've done well as this is pretty much my first ever Fanfic. Additionally, criticisms both expected and welcomed, I'd also love to hear what I'm NOT doing well etc.**

 ** _Chapter 3_** _-_

 _Get up._

The sudden voice erupted through his aching skull.

 _Move._

No other noise penetrated the absent whine that reverberated against Perseus' ear canal.

 _Time flows. Move._

Peering through the rapidly crusting goo about his eyes, an blurry image of a body slam against the wall beside him, crushing the skull, pink and red mash exploding outward, coated Perseus in another layer of grime and filth.

Gaining focus, Perseus glanced past scorched corpses, and figures fleeing unseen enemies, the figure of a pale young man missing limbs, muttering to himself caught his attention.

The coughing man.

Despite the large distance between them, and the still present whine that gained volume each second, turning from whine to screech, Perseus observed eyes turn violent green, and lips move, constructing words on the lips, morphing to voice in his head.

 _Time flows, I will not do it. Time grows, I will not do it. Time slows, I will not do it. He crawls closer, stained teeth bared, staring at me with those eyes. THOSE GOLD EYES. I CAN NOT DO IT._

The man began jerking, convulsing into wild seizure, foam gathering, the severity of his movements causing a crack in his elbow as he rolled about. Suddenly collapsing, still and lifeless, the man was left to nothing but a heap of meat.

Eyes now wide, Perseus began to lift his still recovering body, leaning on a newly discovered crippled leg, his shin shattered.

"Resilient"

Perseus heard the vague hum through his screeching ears. Turning towards the voice he saw bright red eyes burning through the shadow of the Winged helmet.

"A Demi? Shame about your chains then."

Perseus was slammed from the side, skittering to the floor, already cracked ribs splintering.

A jagged white rib pierced skin and jutted out of the chest.

Standing again, Perseus turned to his assailant, placing his flat palm against the protruding bone.

Confused red eyes widened slightly, repulsed by the vicious sight before him.

Ramming his hand down, Perseus pushed the rib back into chest. A sickening 'thunk' sounding as the tension of the rib slackened, and a yelp escaped Perseus' lips.

Red blood began trickling from the remaining hole.

Perseus spat, red spittle flying towards the Demigod. Lifting his arms in an aggressive stance, Perseus glared.

"Stay down boy, easier for both of us." The man was Grimacing, visibly shocked.

Perseus' blood began fading in colour, turning lighter and lighter, until it ran a bright gold.

"Unnamed" the words escaped in a panicked burst. Red eyes first widened, then narrowed.

Any previous nonchalance the man had held in the fight was gone.

Perseus could feel the tension and fear flowing from the man. Solid tendrils of it lurched towards him, writhing tentacles that reeked of desperate fear.

Stepping forward, Perseus watched a spark ignite, and fire burst from the man's palm.

A son of Apollo or Hephaestus. Helios perhaps.

Taking another step, Perseus was blasted from his feet, a resounding crack sounding as he connected with the outer wall of the ring.

Hearing the cheering crowd slowly fade, Perseus sat still, head lulled forward as blood seeped from the back of his skull.

There was no point fighting like this. The winged helmet didn't even need to make physical contact to squash him like an insect.

But Perseus wouldn't just lie until his death; there was even less point in that.

Unnamed didn't fear death, they welcomed it. Dying a vicious death would award you a place amongst gods, Perseus had heard that a hundred times over.

The only portion of the Essence Perseus had ever been able to grasp, was Ichor.

He had more than enough opportunity to practice; there was barely a day that went by where he didn't severely injure himself.

And constant use of Ichor had given Perseus something most Demigods didn't have. Whether it was natural for an Unnamed he didn't know, But the Ichor had granted Perseus serious physical superiority over men and Demigod alike, and Perseus thought colossal strength could be his ticket off the carcass of a life he currently led.

Feeling a tug in his gut, he blocked the path of Ichor from reaching his head, and let it circulate the rest of his body, replacing his regular mortal blood.

Feeling it bolster him, Perseus slowed his breathing.

Sound left him.

Sight left him.

Touch left him.

All that was left was a pulsing heartbeat.

Lying still, he hoped to appear dead, luring the Helmet closer.

What seemed an eternity later, He couldn't see, feel, or hear the man approach, but he somehow knew.

Launching forward, his hand gripped a throat, and he squeezed. His senses returning, the windpipe crushed beneath his grasp.

Tossing the body to the floor, Perseus swung his fists downward in a frenzy.

The stress of his hits crumpled the metal helmet in a single hit, but he would have to go further to ensure some victory.

He continued slamming fist after fist down, until the skull cracked, splintered, and shattered, his fists connecting with nothing but mushed organ.

Breathing heavily, Perseus leaned back.

Glancing back down at the pulverized opponent, he noticed the design of the heavily damaged helmet.

It was simple, little decoration bar a the Inscription of XII, and a blue plume.

Remembering the Winged helmet, adorned with red plumage, Perseus simply shrank. He'd attacked a regular Roman ranker.

Defeat loomed.

A depressed wretch began surging forward, attempting to retake his mind.

It truly _was_ pointless.

Words Perseus thought long dead began coursing through his skull, corrupting consciousness.

"Struggle is pointless, play the hand dealt you, and life comes easier."

A dark skinned face grinned.

"it's not so bad besides. Free food yea Percy?"

The cheeky brown eyes continued their assault on Jari.

"I told you, rat. That my name is Jari."

The grin faltered briefly, a sad look reigning, before returning twice as wide.

"A dumb name. You're Greek. Perseus suits better."

Jari narrowed his eyes at the skinny boy. He appeared 3 or 4 years younger than Perseus' own 15.

"I'm not some _filthy_ Greek. My parents are Unnamed, just like me."

This time the grin faded completely. Theseus opened his mouth, but closed it and turned before replying.

The next few hours passed quietly, as they normally did when you waited for the next Siege run.

But when the horn finally blew, the Camp jerked to life, Soldiers gathering weapons and armor with anxious haste.

Another supply caravan was headed for the fort, and the Greeks sought to intercept before the Romans could resupply, lengthening the 2 year assault for even longer.

Finding his place at the side of his Siege Tower, Jari knelt beside the huge wooden structure.

It was around 20 feet wide, and 60 feet high, shaped like a staircase. Used for scaling fortified walls, the sturdy structures were built to withstand defending onslaught.

However, The machines were enormous, and weighed accordingly, making Perseus' job what it was; a punishment.

The base of the tower had two large (and largely useless) wooden wheels. Spread around them were handholds, carved at intervals, shortening closer the the front, which was higher and heavier.

While the physical effort of lugging the tower around was hard as it was, what caused the task to be truly dreadful, was the strategic advantage of _halting_ the advance of the towers for the Romans.

Offering prayer to Ares, Jari stood and gripped the wooden handle to his left. Another horn blew, and his fellow Tower runners began rolling the tower, along with the 13 other towers.

The assault was as successful as usual, Capturing the caravan was unsuccessful, as the Greeks intel was hours late.

Presumably angry at the failed skirmish, The Greek war leader ordered a full scale attack on the fort.

14 Towers fronted legions of soldiers, armed with bronze spear and sword.

Greeks began loosing arrow after arrow toward the stone keep, and drums boomed through the sounds of hundreds of yelling men, signalling the march.

Jari pushed forward, a huff leaving his lungs as he exerted himself. The Towers rolled towards the fort at steady pace.

Until they came within range.

The sun was blackened as arrows reigned down onto Tower runners.

Jari heard a mangled yelp and thud from immediately behind him, as the pressure on his shoulders and hands increased, the Towers weight growing.

In front Jari watched as an arrow traveled through the air, flying straight towards him. Panic burst, but the momentum of the bridge, and it's weight on his shoulder ensured he held his position.

The arrow flew straight down, sinking into the skull of the man directly in front of him. Falling back, Jari had to run straight over the fallen corpse, ignoring the horrific sight of vacant white eyes staring into the sky.

Finally reaching the walls, The remaining runners dropped the Tower and sank to exhausted knees. Jari scanned the survivors, looking for dark skin.

A hand slapped his back, and a voice stated "lucky tower hey. 6 didn't even make it halfway."

Theseus collapsed next to his friend.

Jari breathed a relieved sigh, and stared down at his blistered hands.

They were bleeding less than usual. He was growing used to the daunting task, calluses forming thick skin.

The single trickle that dribbled down his palm began tinging gold, and Jari quickly formed fists, hiding the oddity.

"We have to get out of here Theseus. This place is killing us. Or we should get some armor or something. Why don't they give us armor? We could survive each run, and more towers would reach the walls." frustration etched Jari's face. He couldn't bare the thought of his current existence. It didn't make sense.

A grin formed on the boys face, but Jari could see the terrified sadness underneath.

"that's the point Percy. We're not supposed to live."

He got up, and slowly walked back towards the camp, casually walking past the throngs of soldiers charging toward the fort, ignoring arrows felling men left and right.

Light Returned to Perseus eyes.

Sad thoughts reverberated through his skull, bouncing from wall to wall.

The dark skinned boy's words repeated in his head, "We're not supposed to live."

Lowly men like Perseus weren't supposed to die. The whims of Rich Emperors holding Gladiator skirmishes for entertainment, or Generals sending young boys to the slaughter so he can attain a pointless victory decided that. Men like Perseus were expendable, just tools to be used or playthings to watch.

Anger surged through his veins.

Perseus drew fists, leaning them against the dusty floor.

"Do not get close. And let me finish him."

Anger grew, pooling in his mind. Veins pulsated beside eyes.

Anger crumbled under the pressure of fury, which was in turn crushed by a ferocious, uncontrollable rage. Ichor was overflowing from his system, surging rapidly from every unsealed wound and cut, gushing from his nose and eyes.

Those surrounding him in a cautious ring, bar the winged helmet, who was busy recuperating strength he'd lost slaughtering 30 or so gladiators, noticed the runes adorning Perseus chains begin to glow a hot red.

"Sir, his chains-" a ranker began notifying the Demigod

"I know, he's useless, I know. I wish to smite him. The emperor will see."

"No sir, they're-"

The runes began squealing, pulsating with now purple light.

Winged helmet finally turned, and in shock, simply flew his hands towards Perseus, attempting to fling him with telekinesis.

On contact, Perseus felt a shockwave slam into his back, but he wasn't toppled or battered away.

The chain circling his neck burst outwards, fragments slicing into those surrounding.

A second shockwave erupted, knocking many to their feet; others held arms affront faces, protecting sight.

Perseus, one eye glowing a deep sea green, and the other a rich purple, stretched his hands forth on instinct, and felt _power_ fly towards his enemies.

Those still standing flew backward.

Perseus glanced towards a man behind him, rushing forward, gladius in hand. _Courageous_ Perseus thought.

Simply picturing it in his mind, the man was lifted from the ground, and slammed back to earth as he'd seen Winged helmet do. The result was more graphic than before. Spine and neck snapped alike, hips shattering upon impact with the ground. Feet touched the back of the mans head, resembling a scorpion.

Scanning his surroundings, Perseus searched for the red cloak.

Stalking about, slaying Romans left and right, arrows began descending into the ring from perches high among the stands.

One caught Perseus on the cheek, tearing the flesh apart, but his Ichor enriched blood healed the wound in moments.

Finally descending upon a huddled form shying behind several corpses, Perseus noticed a Winged helmet tossed several feet away, and a ragged red cloak discarded to the side.

Rage still clouding his every thought, Perseus lifted the man with his mind, pinning arms behind his back.

The man's left leg was snapped backward, Femur slicing through thigh leaving a jagged mess of torn flesh. An impact injury from landing badly after Perseus' first shockwave.

Red eyes wide, the man gasped rapidly.

Perseus noted a sigil of a lute circled by a flaming sun emblazoned on the man's tunic.

Without missing another beat, He used his mind to yank the man in seperate directions.

A mask of contorted pain spread across the face.

Until Perseus compressed all his power into a single area, and the man's head cracked, and crushed under the pressure, leaving a mangled mass hanging limply from the suspended body.

Fury leaving his mind, unexplainedly calming down, Perseus glanced around him.

Arrows continued to rain down, though none came close to contact.

They circled him, creating a perfect glowing ring.

Several men and women ran towards him.

The women wore strange robes with high collars, an intricate sigil encircling a torch emblazoned in gold and crimson fronting the robes.

The sect of Hecate. More Demigods.

The men held more Binding chains, but they weren't simple guards, these each held enormous Hammers slung across their backs.

Emperors Engineers. Sons of Hephaestus.

Perseus, previous rage subsided, merely sighed and sat cross-legged in the centre of the circle, watching as crimson light began emanating from the arrows lodged in the sand.

Another Crack was heard, and the world again went black.


	4. Parties

**DISCLAIMER** I do not Own Percy Jackson and the Olympians, Everything in this story bar the Plot, and a few Characters belongs to Rick Riordan.

 **Also, Feel free to review your thoughts on anything, I'd like to hear what I've done well as this is pretty much my first ever Fanfic. Additionally, criticisms both expected and welcomed, I'd also love to hear what I'm NOT doing well etc.**

 **AUTHORS NOTE; This is a pretty slow chapter, and there will be one like this every now and then. But the more Action ones will be coming also.**

 _ **Chapter 4 -**_

"Starts after sundown I think. But late is always most fashionable."

Her face stretched into a grin. The slightest dimples lined her reddened lips.

They weren't natural, but she looked just as good without lip powder.

A smirk arched from the corner of his mouth, creasing a scar that laced his lip.

"Annabeth caring about fashion? That's something we don't see every day is it?"

Her light grin turned to a giggle, and she held her mouth behind tanned, but gentle hands.

He turned from her seated figure, lounging on his bed, and walked towards a set of legate's armor, resting clammy palms on its plated metal pauldrons.

It was beautiful, a true work of art.

He loved this gift from his father, he truly did.

But their wasn't a scratch or blemish on its reflective surface. A symbol of his lack of military experience.

"Oh Luke! Don't tell me you're wearing that silly armor again, it's a party not a parade."

Luke turned back to face the blonde curls behind him.

Smiling again, he crouched and began to strap his sandals.

"I look good in it." He simply stated.

There was a moment of near silence, before Luke heard an almost inaudible "you do".

Without looking up, He smirked again.

"Well, if Annabeth wants to be fashionably late, fashionable we shall be!"

A loud knocking chorused through the room.

Luke sighed, before making an exasperated expression to Annabeth.

"Coming Nerus."

No response was heard, so Luke walked to the enormous engraved wooden doors, sparing no glance at the intricate carvings of Roman soldiers fending off Barbarian hordes, and pushed them apart.

Despite their enormity, no sound was made as they swung on enormous iron hinges.

Luke whispered to Nerus as Annabeth lay back on the soft surface of Luke's bed, and began to doze.

Some time passed before Luke finished his conversation with Nerus, as Annabeth was deep in daydream by the time he addressed her.

"Annabeth, I said you should go home and get your costume organized, I'll meet you in the Atrium at sundown, and we can walk to the Praetorium."

Before waiting for a response, he turned and began fastening a leather chest piece to go under his Metal plates.

The Ball was enormous. The wealthy from all over Rome came, at least one member of each house present, to ensure their appearance of elitism was maintained.

Many were Demigods, as having one of Divine nature in your house stapled you as one of Rome's rich and powerful.

Most were only a quarter blooded, as Wealthy politicians and merchants often married their Demigod children off in trade, however there were some as high as Three Quarter blooded present, noticeable by their Gem encrusted rings.

Luke and Annabeth made their way through throngs of inebriated party goers, all unrecognizable behind their masquerade masks.

Laying eyes on a sole unmasked boy with a golden crew cut and electric blue eyes, the pair made their way towards him.

"Jason! Very formal as usual. Glad you're having fun!" Luke grinned behind his mask, chuckling at his friend's attire. Like Luke he wore military garb, although unlike Luke's decorative plates, Jason wore extremely weathered leather.

"Not staying long." He shrugged "Just wanted to find Thalia and tell her something. I'm on patrol in the morning."

Luke's grin faded.

"I thought you'd want to have a drink with us! School starts back soon."

Jason simply stared at Luke with a bored expression.

"Again, I'm on patrol in the morning. You know the thing everyone else in the Legion has to do?"

Luke laughed, leaning his head back as he did.

"Yeah yeah, go on soldier boy. When you see Thalia tell her to come find us." Jason simply nodded and grabbed Luke's forearm in the classic Roman way, before disappearing into the crowd.

Luke turned toward Annabeth.

"You know Annie, you really do look so nice tonight."

His eyes gazed into Stormy grey orbs, and he noticed her cheeks redden.

Annabeth opened her mouth to respond, but an enormous hand landing on Luke's shoulder interrupted.

"Luke my boy! You've just about grown twice as big since I saw you last!" a gargantuan man with a very un-Roman grizzly beard and long black hair grinned at him.

Next to him stood Luke's Stepfather, Morus Tyrannus.

General Tyrannus simply stood to the side, a slight frown gracing his face, as he looked Luke's attire up and down.

"Atlas! It's been years hasn't it! Don't suppose Calypso is here? we've all been missing her at the Academy."

Atlas continued grinning, but Luke noticed it falter for the briefest moment.

"Unfortunately Calypso isn't seen as welcome at pro doctrina essentia anymore. The priests say it isn't good for us godly folk to be with mortals too long. Will upset their view of us, won't be revered and all that."

Luke frowned.

"That's ridiculous, You're a titan! should be an honor to house Calypso.

Tyrannus' frown deepened, before a scratchy, but deep voice growled "Refer to your superiors by title Luke, were you promoted several times in the past week for you to wear those plates and ignore protocol?"

Luke turned to his Stepfather.

The man had short dark blonde hair in a similar style to Jason. His bare arms were heavily tanned, and just as heavily muscled. The letters SPQR were branded onto his right forearm, an eagle above it, and a Pilum under it, a symbol of his Father, Mars.

"Although no doubt deserving, no father, I have not been promoted. But Mercury himself bequeathed these plates to me."

Pleased with his response, Luke smiled at his Stepfather, but the grin never reached his eyes.

Tyrannus stared at his Stepson blankly for a few moments, before his eyes softened, and an upset and disappointed look replaced it.

Turning to Annabeth, His expression warmed.

"Ah my little Graecus. How are you Annabeth?" Tyrannus bowed slightly, and a smile graced Annabeth's lips

"I'm well General, enjoying tonight's festivities!"

He smiled in return, and they continued mild conversation for a short while, until both large men continued to circle the room, mingling with other Roman high-ups.

As Luke and Annabeth made their way around the party, greeting friends where they found them, and sternly pacing past the many women who would glare at Annabeth with sly eyes and whisper 'Graecus' as she passed.

Annabeth didn't mind when Luke's Stepfather called her Graecus, but these old tarts were spiteful and rude in her opinion.

The pair finally rested by a long white table, filled with cheese and wine.

As they began joking with one another, a girl of similar age to Luke approached.

"Conspiring with the enemy still Luke? Im both Disgusted and Disappointed. Young Roman man like you should be engaged to a beautiful Roman Woman, not this _Graecus_ "

The dark haired girl sauntered over, glaring at Annabeth as she did so.

"Am I conspiring with the enemy? I wasn't aware we'd been talking already Minerva."

The girl went red with anger, and began to open her mouth in response, but a young man with brown curly hair cut her off.

"Disgracing your namesake again I see Minerva. You always were better at opening your legs than your lips." The short man danced around Minerva, hopping from foot to foot with a mischievous grin, tilting his head from side to side.

Minerva, astounded at his intrusion, opened and closed her mouth in silence, unable to respond through her shock.

Finally gaining some semblance of composure, her shock was replaced by fury.

"You disgusting little shit. I should get my father to throw you in the Colosseum!"

The man simply grinned, before retorting.

"I'd like to see him try. Looks too interested in the inside of his wineglass to care about a child like you."

"I'm no child! I'm engaged to be wed!"

Again the man laughed.

"Then I wish your husband good luck in the coming years. Must be a hard thought knowing your son has a dozen potential fathers."

Minerva, finally too furious to even respond, simply stormed away.

Several youthful Demigods glared at the curly haired man before turning to chase Minerva. The oldest of the group sidled up to her side, whispering in her ear.

She halted, and turned to face the courageous young man, slapping his grasp from her arm, before red cheeks snarled some silent curse at the boy. He stood amongst the crowds of intoxicated party goers, unaware and uncaring of his shattered presence, staring as the woman strode away, a posse of hopeful young men trailing her every step.

Luke turned from the amusing spectacle, and smirked at the young man.

"Never thought I'd be pleased with your insults Wit."

The man turned away from the retreating figure of Minerva.

"That's because your ridiculous outfits are usually the target of said insults dear Luke." A grin marred his face, before he turned to Annabeth.

"Ah, and Annabeth, the only brain amongst all this brawn who rivals my wisdom, yet dwarfs my beauty. May your lady Athena continue to curse my existence placing such a brilliant mind amidst imbeciles." He bowed slightly, and Luke turned to face Annabeth in astonishment.

Annabeth herself had extremely red cheeks, and was staring at the patterned tiles on the floor.

Turning back to Wit, Luke found empty air.

"How did he...?"

Searching the Crowds, Luke saw no sign of the dark curly brown hair.


	5. Battles

**DISCLAIMER** I do not Own Percy Jackson and the Olympians, Everything in this story bar the Plot, and a few Characters belongs to Rick Riordan.

 **Also, Feel free to review your thoughts on anything, I'd like to hear what I've done well as this is pretty much my first ever Fanfic. Additionally, criticisms both expected and welcomed, I'd also love to hear what I'm NOT doing well etc.**

 ** _Chapter 5 -_**

 _Drip…_

 _Drip…_

 _Drip…_

Perseus shook his head, Hearing more than feeling the repeated drum of water slapping his skull.

The noise irritated him.

So did the sensation of liquid trickling from forehead into the left ear.

Perseus expected to be chained in place, but found himself surprisingly mobile.

Sitting up he attempted to survey his surroundings.

Complete darkness met him.

Whistling, he attempted to gain awareness.

His Whistle travelled far, telling of a large open expanse. Probably a cave.

Attempting to stand, Perseus found he was bound, only to himself.

Four thick binding chains connected his arms together at his front, however the rest of his body was free.

"Interesting spectacle today boy. I was certain you wouldn't make it."

Perseus recognised the voice.

It was the White toga.

"Shocked me when you broke that binding chain, never seen that before."

Perseus still remained silent. He hated speaking to Romans.

"Tested on the strongest Demigods from our Academy here in Rome. Not even three quarter bloods have ever broken one."

Perseus, seeking to irritate the man, lay back down.

A pause followed.

"I'm in no mood to talk to myself boy. All I want is some information."

Perseus fake smiled, staying silent.

"You have no ambitions past fighting in that arena? You turn down freedom?"

Perseus wanted nothing more than freedom.

But he knew Romans. Romans always lied.

The man sighed, "How about, if you make even one noise right now, I'll return your sight?"

Perseus just laughed. If the man spoke the truth, he'd regain vision, if the man lied, he could retain his pride; he'd only laughed to show disrespect.

However true to his word, after a pause, the man stated "Release it."

Light suddenly burst through Perseus' closed lids.

Shocked, he opened them.

Around him stood a dozen people.

Three women in black robes, adorned with the sigil of Hecate. One wore an elaborate headdress, golden arms snaking from it's tip, giving it the appearance of a gaudy crown.

Opposite them stood three gruff men, clearly Emperors Engineers by their soot coated garb, and enormous hammers in hands. The middle one was bald, with a large orange beard. His leg was replaced by a large chunk of bronze. It was intricately crafted, pneumatic pistons hissing as he stood, holding the prosthetic together.

Standing between both groups, stood the White toga.

"Now boy, can we consider an agreement?"

Perseus just stared at him.

"Okay. Here is my offer; if you explain what Greece is doing on your land, I will free you."

Perseus didn't particularly like the Greeks, they had enslaved him same as the romans, and forced him to push Siege towers. A torment worse than any Gladiatorial fighting.

That being said, at least pushing siege towers was actual warfare, rather than senseless entertainment.

Perseus decided to stay quiet.

Realising Perseus would remain unhelpful, White toga grew irritated.

"There's no back to the Arena after this boy, you're too dangerous. Tell me or you'll be fed to the lions."

Perseus narrowed his eyes.

White toga stepped forward and struck him across the cheek.

"I don't have time for your pride."

"And I don't have time for your lard ass, filthy rat."

White toga shuffled back a few paces, visibly shocked at the sudden outburst.

None of the Women, nor Emperors Engineers moved a muscle.

The White toga, regaining composure, gripped Perseus' collar and pulled him to his feet. Perseus stood a full foot taller than the man, so White toga attempted to push him back on his knees.

Perseus stood tall.

Narrowing his eyes, White toga sneered

"I'm one of the Emperors highest advisors boy. I could have the inquisition here within moments, tearing your fingernails out and feeding you your own organs. You wouldn't even bleed out straight away, they're good with Ambrosia."

A pang of fear smacked Perseus' heart. A death by the inquisition wasn't a pretty one. Bleeding to death after months of torture wouldn't allow him a glorious battle hardy death.

"They wanted to set up a city. We didn't allow them."

It was useless information anyway.

The white toga grinned in satisfaction.

"A city? Strange… continue."

There wasn't anything else to say, but Perseus wanted to buy himself time. If he could somehow break his chains the same as last time…

"They tried trading with us, but they had little of value."

"What did they want from you?"

Perseus frowned. How would he know that, he couldn't even remember his homeland.

"I don't know. My parents traded food so they could fight."

White toga scrunched his face in confusion.

"You mean Greeks traded food for your soldiers?"

Perseus smiled slightly. Greeks and Romans never understood his people.

"No. My father gave the Greeks bundles of furs and meat in return for promise of battle. My mother simply joined him as shield maiden."

White toga simply stared at Perseus, disgust in his eyes.

"You pay the Greeks to fight for them?"

Perseus simply nodded.

"You said they tried to make a city. How many were there?"

Perseus had no idea in truth, but he remembered the stories his parents told him.

"I don't know your numbers well. But it is said the coast for mile after mile was covered in small dark haired men with strange helmets, feathers and hair sprouting their tops."

White toga looked frustrated for a moment, before sighing.

"Exaggeration?"

Perseus shook his head. It probably was, but he didn't care enough to say this.

"How did you stop this many men building a city?" He sounded sceptical.

"We killed them."

"You killed them? You must have huge cities yourself on this land of yours. " Perseus could tell he didn't believe him.

"Do your people get along well on your homeland?"

Again, Perseus had no idea.

He simply shrugged. "I don't know. I'm stuck in this dungeon, no?"

The White Toga chuckled.

"True, very true."

He stood and walked across the expansive cavern. Those surrounding him didn't move to follow.

Perseus simply sighed and lay back down, staring at the uneven ceiling.

He heard the White toga call from several feet away, "You're not going to ask about your freedom?"

Perseus scowled.

"Romans lie, same as Greeks. I'm used to it."

Silence followed, before he heard sandals growing closer.

"You boy, are an interesting one. It's a shame you're the main course for the Emperors name day."

Perseus glanced up at the White toga, and found the man staring at his tattooed hand.

-0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0-

"Come on Annabeth! It's the last night we have free before school starts."

She had her back to him, staring at the garden surrounding them.

"Ugh, haven't we been to enough balls and parties Luke? Take Thalia or something."

She leaned down and picked up a book that had been sitting on the bench to her side.

"Where is your Enthusiasm from last week? It's the Emperors name day for Mercury's sake! Plus it's not a party this time, It's at the colosseum."

Annabeth sighed, and turned to Luke.

"So? He already has a birthday, why do we need to celebrate his name day."

Luke glanced around him worriedly, hoping nobody was close enough to hear such words. Demigods could get away with a lot, being related to the gods, but Annabeth was a Greek, and such tyranny could get her more than killed.

Luke grabbed Annabeth's arm, and hissed into her ear

"Careful Annie, dangerous words."

Annabeth cringed at the name, but couldn't respond before somebody behind them cleared her throat.

"Sorry, I thought this spot would be empty"

Luke turned to see honey brown hair, and a woman wearing an elaborate stola, a large gem in the centre of her woollen belt.

"Calypso" Luke exclaimed, bowing hastily as he did so.

Annabeth, even more shocked than Luke, simply stood with her mouth agape.

Calypso smiled, and stepped forward "Please don't Luke, I'm not used to seeing you be so formal"

She paused in front of Luke, still smiling at his bowing figure, before turning and embracing Annabeth.

"I haven't seen you two in forever."

Annabeth, recovering from her stupor, hugged Calypso in return before replying, "We heard about the Academy. I think it's rubbish."

Luke chorused from behind Annabeth "Yeah, I wanted to take it up with the headmaster when I heard."

Calypso continued her smile, but Annabeth could see the sadness in her eyes.

"It's been a little strange since I left. Apparently I'm too different from you guys."

Her eyes continued to sag, so Annabeth decided to change the conversation.

"Excuse my interruption, but what brings you to Rome if not School, I know you hate this place!"

Calypso chuckled, and Luke joined in, though it was a little forced.

"Father brought me for the Emperors name day celebration. Apparently the clergy believe old Octavius is above everyone else, and is exempt from my superiority." Bitterness laced every word.

Annabeth grimaced.

"So you will be attending the fight later this evening?"

Luke could barely contain his giddiness.

Calypso turned and faced Luke for the first time since she'd arrived.

"Unfortunately, Yes. I'm even in the Imperial box."

Luke, failing to see the lack of enthusiasm grinned

"Exciting stuff! Annabeth and I were going as well, but our seats aren't quite as luxurious."

Calypso simply turned to Annabeth, arching a brow.

"Don't look at me like that, I didn't want to go."

Annabeth gagged exaggeratingly to emphasise her point.

Calypso laughed at the action.

"Well, I suppose we could both have a more pleasant evening if you accompanied me in the Imperial box? Chaos knows who else I would talk to."

Annabeth smiled sweetly and was about to thank Calypso before Luke's giddiness finally burst

"We would love to Calypso! It would be an honor!"

Annabeth turned to Luke and frowned. It was unnerving seeing Luke like this. He was usually confident and charming, but around Calypso he was always a child.

-0o0o0o0o0o0o00o0o0o0-

The sack reeked of rotting blood.

The seams between the stitching only allowed a tiny amount of light through, leaving Perseus all but blind.

But he didn't need sight to know what was happening.

He could hear the screaming crowds, the vicious clang of sword hitting sword, grunts sounding every so often as one man struggled to hold off another.

Closer, he heard people muttering prayer, and some simply breathing heavily. The sound of fear.

A man a few paces behind Perseus growled "Ah fuck. This runt's just pissed himself." Followed by a sobbing sound just behind.

A few seconds later Perseus heard a large man scream

"SHUT UP FILTHY DOGS"

The men surrounding Perseus quietened, until a young man to Perseus' left spoke

"You're not going to unchain him? Must be scared."

The man shouted back

"I SAID SHUT YOUR HOLES."

A snicker sounded throughout the otherwise quiet area.

"You've even blinded him. What a pathetic people you Romans are."

No voice followed, but Perseus heard a smacking sound and a lot of shuffling.

Silence followed, the crowds of the Colosseum had quietened to watch the intense battle ongoing.

The sword clangs were the only things to break the eerie lack of noise.

Finally a posh voice sounded from the side

"As long as he's in the centre of the group for the most part, nobody will see he's bound. They won't care too much regardless."

It was White toga.

Outside Perseus' Essence enhanced ears heard a guttural moan, and the Clanging swords ceased. Moments later the crowd erupted in cheers and screaming.

A booming voice, the same who always heralded Imperial ceremonies, burst through, announcing a new scene.

A rattling sounded above Perseus, and Perseus knew the sound.

The big metal gates to the entrance of the Arena were slowly rising.

Perseus heard a guard scream, "move" and felt himself being pushed forward.

To his left, that same young voice from before whispered to him "Drew the short straw it seems mate. Fucking Romans."

-oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo-

Calypso and Annabeth both sat far back from the action, chatting away about their time spent apart. They had been good friends before Calypso's sudden disappearance.

Luke however, was conflicted between paying attention to the fight before him, and Calypso herself.

The Titaness was Beautiful, he couldn't deny it. Luke had known many attractive women, Annabeth was one of them, and Luke did love Annabeth, even intended to propose to her should his Family allow it, but whenever he saw Calypso, he couldn't control himself.

He turned away from the intense fight, glancing at her. She was mid conversation with Annabeth, discussing something or other. He observed the slight curvature of her mouth, and the texture and colour of her skin.

Many man fell prey to Calypso's appearance; it was natural to be allured towards one of the Ancient blood.

Cheers erupted from the crowd, and Luke turned to see he had missed the pinnacle of the fight.

Slightly disappointed, he saw a large man in an elaborate Toga whisper into the Emperors ear.

Luke hadn't had the chance to talk to Octavius yet, as he wasn't exactly a guest of the Emperor, rather someone Calypso simply brought into the stand, and got away with because she was a Titan.

The emperor's eyes glazed over in a disturbingly lustful expression, and the man stepped towards the edge of the stands.

His voice rang out to the entire Colosseum.

"A gift from your Loving Emperor, in celebration of the 13th anniversary of his taking of the wreath, Octavius Caesar gives you the Defeat of Hannibal."

The crowd exploded. Food was tossed towards the centre of the arena as patrons chanted in glee.

A round of "Octavius, Octavius, Octavius" circled the Colosseum.

Calypso and Annabeth both paused there conversation, eyes darting towards the announcer in sock.

The Defeat of Hannibal was a well-known Act at the Colosseum. It was also beloved by the people of Rome.

Both Calypso and Annabeth knew why; The Defeat of Hannibal was a brutal, and utterly barbaric slaughter.

Luke, usually a fan of the Colosseum, grew uneasy at the news. It was one thing to watch two men of relatively equal footing battle, but watching legion after legion slaughter near defenceless slaves was another.

Octavius was a sick man. This was the second battle enactment he'd announced within the fortnight.

Luke turned towards the fat youth.

The man clearly wanted to see his Roman soldiers defeat a pitiful enemy after the last debarkle of the arena.

Staring out into the ring, Luke watched as hundreds of nearly unarmed slaves marched into the centre of the Colosseum.

Searching for the Unnamed slave from last week, Luke was disappointed to find him absent, or at least hidden amongst the hundreds of skinny young men.

He was surprised to see both Calypso and Annabeth leaning forward in their seats, eyes intent on the scene before them.

Luke glanced at them both; surprised at how his stomach wasn't churning as it normally did when he looked at Calypso. He arched a brow at Annabeth, who looked at him sternly

"As gruesome as this is. I owe it to those men to at least dignify them with my attention for what is about to come."

Calypso turned to her, and Luke expected a disgusted reaction.

Calypso simply nodded, a look of extreme sorrow marring her normally beautiful face.

Luke returned his attention to the ring, to see thousands of Roman soldiers forming a ring around the congregated Slaves.

Calypso frowned.

"What are they doing in the centre? See them moving away from those two men?"

Luke focused on where Calypso pointed, and noticed the group of slaves and formed their own ring around a very muscular man with golden hair, and another man whose face Luke couldn't see, as it was hidden behind some sorts of hood.

Annabeth exclaimed in shock, and stated loudly

"Look at his arms! He's chained up!"

Atlas, seated next to Octavius, had obviously noticed it as well.

He turned toward his daughter, and Luke saw fury behind his eyes.

But Atlas said nothing; he simply narrowed his eyes at the chained man in the centre.

"They're binding runes!" Annabeth burst

Luke focused on the man harder, using Essence to enhance his vision.

True enough, purple runes adorned the chains binding the man, and not only that, but there were four sets.

He turned back towards the Emperor, and noticed Atlas, eyes still narrowed at the man. A look of deep concentration held the giants gaze.

-0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0-

Perseus, despite the sack blocking his vision, could simply sense his surroundings.

By now he was in the centre of the Arena, surrounded by cheering legions of bastard Romans.

Perseus growled beneath his hood. He was going to die a caged animal. He'd survived the fucking Greek warcamps just to die chained up and laughed at by filthy Romans.

The young man from before tore Perseus from his thoughts.

"Everyone, back away from us. If they see how they chain him, we might get the sympathy of the crowd."

The gruff man from before retorted; "piss off boy. I'm not moving any closer to those Romans."

The young man shot back instantly.

"You think you'll live anyway? Our best chance is for the crowd to spare us."

Murmurs spread through the slaves. Perseus heard several figures shifting away from him. But he could feel some hadn't moved.

Perseus guessed it was those simply too scared to move, or those too stubborn.

The young man continued "If you don't move, I'm going to run you through with this knife myself."

Perseus heard a laugh.

"You think you can take me turd? I'm twice your weight."

"No I don't think I can take you. But I don't care, I'll try dam hard, and either way you'll be weakened for the Romans."

After more back talk between them, the remaining stragglers also shuffled away form Perseus.

"What's your name mate?"

Initially Perseus wasn't going to respond, there was no point. But this man had somewhat helped Perseus, with nobody around in the way, at least he could move his legs freely.

"Perseus."

Silence followed.

"I've heard you call yourself Jari."

Frowning under the hood, Perseus was shocked he knew his true name.

"Who are you?"

He received no answer.

"Are you Perseus or Jari?"

Perseus grimaced.

"Perseus is my Greek name. Aren't you Greek?"

A moment of silence followed.

"No." more silence "No… I'm a Roman."

This surprised Perseus. In all his days in the Arena, not once had he heard of Romans fighting in the Colosseum.

"Fitting name Jari. Like your Tattoo"

Perseus grimaced; this man wasn't the first to mention his tattoo.

"I'm going to take your hood off."

Sight returned to Perseus, and the sight before him was stunning.

The stands of the Colosseum were decorated in enormous banners; some read 'OCTAVIUS' and others 'HAIL CAESAR'.

The stands themselves were packed, there wasn't a seat left to be filled, the patrons were crammed shoulder-to-shoulder, cheering and chanting.

Turning to his newfound comrade, he gasped in shock

"Theseus?!"

The man simply stared at Perseus in confusion

"No, my name is Travis…"

Perseus shook his head, and scowled at himself. The man didn't look at all like Theseus did.

"Shame about those bindings. My Employer couldn't get rid of them."

Perseus looked at Travis in confusion.

Travis simply laughed

"Do I look like a slave to you?"

It was true, besides Perseus himself; no slaves escaped the scrawniness brought on by a lack of proper food.

"You're pretty jovial for someone about to die" Perseus growled

Again Travis laughed.

"I'm going to call you Percy, is that okay? It's easier than Jari, all that strange 'j' pronunciation you Unnamed have."

He spoke so fast. Perseus began to understand why we initially reminded him of Theseus, despite their lack of physical similarities.

"You won't be calling me anything. We'll be dead in a few moments."

Perseus looked out towards the gathering roman soldiers. They outnumbered the Slaves thirty to one.

"I can just fly out of here. You were supposed to come, but the boss will understand, with all those binding chains"

Travis' smile was gone. He looked genuinely sorry for Perseus. Typical Romans, lying right to his face.

Perseus was going to die chained up like a dog, listening to a smug Roman giggle.

-OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO-

Luke gasped.

"That's the Demigod from the last battle!" Excitement bubbled through him.

He turned and absent-mindedly clasped Calypso's arm

"If anyone can get out of this, I'd bet it's him!"

She glanced at his face, then his hand on her arm, then back to his face.

"I hope you're right."

Luke noticed his hand, and quickly withdrew, somewhat embarrassed at his outburst.

"Sorry my Lady, It's just I've seen this man fight before. He is like a demon enraged. They call him the Unnamed!"

At this Calypso returned her attention to the man in the ring.

"Is he actually Unnamed?"

Luke smiled.

"Well he certainly looks and fights the part."

Annabeth piped up

"As stupid as he normally is" She turned to Luke, an amused look upon her face, "He is right. This man certainly knows how to fight. Looks like they've upped his chains though."

Luke nodded, a little upset.

"Not a fair fight like that. Who do you think his Parent is? Strange they had Unnamed children isn't it?"

Calypso simply replied

"Not as strange as you think."

Luke watched her turned face as horns began blowing, signifying the beginning of The Defeat of Hannibal.

Turning back the Chained man, he felt somebody scrying him, and noticed the man staring straight at him.

His expression was ruthless, sending chills down Luke's spine.

-0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0-

Romans began slowly approaching. The space between the two rings closing in.

The gruff man from earlier turned and cursed at Travis.

"Your plan didn't fucking work. No surprise there."

Perseus turned to the man.

He shrank away from Perseus' gaze, but he and the rest of the slaves began gathering around him and Travis again.

Perseus heard a strange fizzle, and felt like an enormous weight was lifted from his shoulders.

Glancing down, he noticed the topmost Rune Chain no longer glowed.

 _Survive. More will drop._

The voice rang through his skull similarly to that of the last time Perseus fought in this Arena, only it sounded different, as though it was a physical voice in his head.

It sounded as though it came from a direction.

Perseus began glancing around, searching for the origin of the voice.

 _I won't be able to get them all, It's taking too long._

Perseus followed the voice.

It led him to the Imperial box.

Perseus frowned. Who in the Imperial box would help him, and now of all times.

Focusing his Essence enhanced vision; he peered into the box, searching for the source.

He first made eye contact with the Emperor himself, a regular mortal despite his claims.

His eyes held nothing but bloodlust.

Next Perseus shifted and found a group of young looking Demigods, very out of place for their surroundings. A young man recoiled at Perseus scrying.

Next Perseus noticed an oddity with the two young girls aura.

The air around them didn't shimmer as it did for Demigods. The blonde girl was closest, but it looked, or rather _smelt_ oddly enough, slightly different to the rest, as if she weren't quite the same type of demigod.

The other girl, or Woman Perseus could say, was breath taking.

Simply looking at her reminded Perseus of the tales his father told of Goddesses descending upon warriors to grace them with strong children.

An enormous man seated next to the Emperor tore Perseus' eyes away from the beautiful woman.

His glare was intense, and concentrated.

Perseus felt insignificant in the presence of the man's aura. It was overwhelming, and Perseus' vision retreated to normal levels.

He heard a cry to the side, and watched as a gladius pierced through a man's abdomen, carving his red flesh, blood pulsating from the wound.

Another cry rang out on the opposite side, and a slave fell backward, a pilum lodged deep in his eye socket.

Slaves began screaming as Romans descended on them with blood curdling chants.

Perseus saw a boy no older than fifteen pick up his own severed arm, before a Legionnaire hacked at his chest, punching through the thin cloth he wore.

Blood sprayed through the pack of slaves coating them all in a thick, and slimy red sinew.

Some cowered, curling up on the floor, simply awaiting their fate.

Perseus felt another weight lift from his shoulders as he watched two Roman soldiers stabbing at a downed man merely 12 feet to his left.

He heard Travis call out

"Look Percy, I'm sorry, I really am."

Perseus turned to the boy.

"But I can't help you any more."

He stared around him, the reality of his surrounding finally hitting him. Perseus watched as the panic flooded his mind. Fear spread through him like a cancer, gripping his mind.

He flinched and yelped as he saw a slave only a few feet to the side beheaded.

Perseus noticed Travis' legs starting to shake, and glanced down at his feet.

The ground was cracking beneath him, and Perseus understood what was about to happen.

Glancing around at his impending slaughter, Perseus stared up in wonder as Travis burst upward, 50 feet into the air.

His shimmering aura made it difficult to make out his figure, but Perseus knew he was floating. This was a trained Demigod.

The surrounding romans stared looked up in shock at the floating man, surprised at the Demigod amongst them.

The crowd ceased their screaming, awed at the sight.

In the silence Perseus heard the voice in his head return.

 _I'm sorry._

Perseus heard defeat in the voice, and looked back toward the enormous man in the Imperial box.

His intense expression was gone.

 _I cannot lift the third_

Perseus looked down at his chains.

Two still glowed, the other two hung limply between his arms.

Perseus looked back up to Travis, Seeing him soar out of the Arena. He paused, and somehow Perseus knew he was looking at him.

Soon the crowd, and the Roman soldiers would return their attention to massacring the remaining slaves.

Perseus thought of sinking to the floor.

He thought of finally giving in to what he'd been told his whole life.

Give up.

Struggle is pointless.

Play that shitty, unfair hand that life dealt you.

Complain.

Tell Thanatos, Hades, and Chaos when you meet them; just how much harder life was for you than it was for those Rich Romans.

Justify giving up.

It's only natural to lose when you're dealt that hand.

Clergy gathered around Perseus' livid soul.

It's okay Perseus. We understand. Giving up is okay, really! Greek life is hard; those Romans have it so easy!

Perseus looked up.

A wretch crouched several paces in front of him.

It's gnarled face twisted in pain.

"Give up for fucks sake. Everything hurts you bastard."

Perseus stared at the creature, petrified.

"What are you?"

It cackled, and unnatural sound coming from such a contorted face.

"I'm Perseus. Who are you?"

Perseus backed up a few paces, recoiling from the figure.

"I'm Perseus. You're… You're a freak."

The disgusting thing continued laughing.

"No. I'm Perseus. Have you seen Jari anywhere? I hope that bastard doesn't come back."

Perseus narrowed his eyes at the thing.

It was toying with him.

"Shut up."

His confidence built, the wretch faltered, halting its cackle.

"I'm not afraid of you." Perseus took a step forward.

The wretch smiled again

"Yes you are." It's eyes widened in twisted pleasure.

Perseus began fuming. His breath quickened.

"We'll see." He began closing on the wretch.

"You're afraid of becoming me." The thing quickly stammered, backing up a few paces.

Perseus halted his approach, but his resolve remained.

"Yes. I did."

He lifted his empty hand, and felt a blade materialize in it.

Closing his palm into a fist, he brought his arm down, ramming the pointed blade deep through the wretches' cheekbone.

It gurgled, spewing thick yellow blood.

It stank as it oozed from the wound, pooling at his feet, the wretches' body crumpling to the floor.

Gazing at the reflective surface of the rank blood, Perseus saw a well-built man with long dark hair and a beard. On his hand was a Tattoo, a symbol of a bladeless sword.

Jari.

Anger shook through Perseus' body, physically rumbling the floor.

The familiar feeling reverberated outwards, causing ripples in the air.

Surrounding Roman soldiers paused their onslaught, to look at the untouched man in the centre of a massacre.

Those who'd witnessed the previous Gladiatorial battle began to yelp and recoil, recognizing the Unnamed man.

Perseus felt his chains begin shaking. He revelled in the feeling.

He pulled at his chains, and the two lifeless ones burst instantly, chain links flying outwards, slamming into raised shields, better prepared than last time.

His blood began bubbling, and he could feel Ichor pumping through his veins.

The last chains still hadn't broken, but Perseus didn't care.

He leapt toward a legionnaire, ramming his enclosed fist forward.

His fist punched through leather and flesh alike, leaving a gaping hole as he pulled his fist out. Lifeless eyes rolled backwards as the man fell.

Without missing a beat, Perseus leapt to the next man, tripping him, before stamping down on his leg.

A sickening crunch sounded as Perseus connected with the man's thigh, flattening bone and muscle into the floor.

Whipping his arm to the side, Perseus used the flailing remainder of the first chain to slam into another soldiers face, slicing through leaving an enormous gash, bubbling out blood as the man collapsed.

Perseus continued spinning between soldier after soldier, tearing flesh and snapping bones.

The third chain had broken; only one remaining, and Perseus paused to look at it.

Concentrating, he ripped his arms outward, snapping the chain in the middle, leaving a cuff on either wrist.

He resumed his outburst, until he approached a man with a noticeable shimmering.

The man confidently stood facing Perseus.

Not wanting a repeat of Perseus' last onslaught, Octavius had of course lined the ranks of Roman soldiers with Demigods.

Perseus concentrated, and tried to lift the man with his mind.

Surprisingly, the man did lift, only of his own accord.

Perseus grasped a fallen Pilum, and launched it at the floating man, attempting to halt his attack.

As soon as the Pilum left Perseus' hand, he felt himself yanked backwards viciously.

Tumbling through the sand, Perseus quickly righted himself, staring down his new opponent.

Five men surrounded him, each shimmering.

Mortal Roman soldiers simply backed away, preying on easier targets, or watching the ensuing battle.

 _Suicide_ Perseus thought.

 _Or, a ticket to the glorious gates._

Brimming with energy, he launched himself towards the closest man, tackling him by the waist.

They both fell to the ground, Perseus slamming a barrage of punches.

The man returned some fire, but was for the most part overwhelmed.

They continued their floor bound brawl for a few moments, rolling around as they did so. He felt a hand claw at his eyes, attempting to gouge them, So Perseus grasped the mans ear and ripped as hard as he could. Hearing a yelp of pain, he kicked the man away, before he was again yanked away.

Using the momentum, Perseus rolled to his feet and jumped at the next man, slamming his fist into the throat of a face only a year or two his senior.

The man instantly fell, windpipe crushed from the force.

Perseus grabbed the fallen corpse with his mind, and flung it towards another man, distracting him as he launched at his next opponent.

He slammed his foot down on the mans knee, snapping it backwards. The man screamed and grabbed it as he started to slump backwards, but before he hit the floor Perseus slammed his fist into the temple, felling the man instantly. He turned to face his next opponent, but was instantly flung backwards by sudden lighting bursting form the outstretched hand of a young man with short blonde hair.

Writhing on the floor, Perseus struggled to get up, urging himself to rise.

He was suddenly battered in the face; his nose cracking as golden blood began bursting through.

He saw the man whose ear he'd torn off stand.

"Little fucker" he screamed

The man unslung a bow from his back and loosed an arrow that slammed into Perseus' back, severing his spinal connection.

Perseus roared in pain, but moments later his entire body simply went numb.

He saw as two men hovered over him, and watched as they began beating his nearly lifeless body.

The lighting man, the youngest of the group simply watched with a look of disgust on his face.

Perseus didn't feel the feet kicking his sides, nor the dagger that the earless man slowly rammed in and out of his stomach.

He just watched, vision slowly fading.

Mere moments before his vision went completely white, the beating stopped. For a while Perseus simply saw blue sky, and a hot yellow sun.

He glanced at the yellow blob, before murmuring

"Hello."

He chuckled at his own strangeness, a feeling of Euphoria spreading over him.

Suddenly the sun was gone, replaced by a silhouette.

His ears, filled with drying blood could barely make out the noise coming from the silhouette.

"He's coming with me."


	6. Oceans

**DISCLAIMER** I do not Own Percy Jackson and the Olympians, Everything in this story bar the Plot, and a few Characters belongs to Rick Riordan.

 **Also, Feel free to review your thoughts on anything, I'd like to hear what I've done well as this is pretty much my first ever Fanfic. Additionally, criticisms both expected and welcomed, I'd also love to hear what I'm NOT doing well etc.**

 _ **To my reviewers, thank you! I'm glad to finally have some feedback, as i really wasn't sure if people like this story or not. Also yes i am getting a beta reader, he's currently reading the whole story right now though, so starting from next chapter, Every new addition to this story will have been checked over :)**_

 _ **Chapter 6 -**_

Calypso tore her eyes away from the massacre, resting sight on her father.

He was staring intently at the fight below, with an unusual interest; Atlas usually wasn't one for the arena, he preferred actual warfare. At least in that there was a fair chance for both sides.

The thought of her father enjoying the spectacle below left a sour taste in Calypso's mouth.

 _Father, you must do something. This is simply wrong!_

She saw her Atlas' mouth twitch as the words formed in his mind.

Nobody else in the box reacted, as they couldn't hear it. Calypso was projecting the words to her father directly.

She waited a few tense moments for a response, but received none.

Quickly glancing back at the arena, she saw more than half the original slaves had already been killed.

 _FATHER!_

This time his eyes darted to Calypso for just a brief moment, before he returned his attention to the fight.

Calypso simply stared at her father, a disgusted expression on her face.

After several seconds Atlas turned away from the slaughter, looking to the floor, an expression of sorrow contaminating his otherwise handsome face.

Calypso was about to project another thought, before he finally broke his silence.

 _I was removing his binds._

Calypso instantly turned to the young man in the centre of the ring.

Using Essence to enhance her vision, she glanced at his chains; only two glowed.

 _Shit._

Calypso said nothing else; she had realised her disastrous mistake.

Removing runed Essence bindings without alerting those themselves trained in Essence was extremely difficult, let alone time consuming.

Atlas had been removing the bindings while trying to not let his interference be known. Calypso's interruption has disrupted Atlas' concentration long enough for him to have to restart his work, removing layer after layer of enchantment.

Looking down into the arena, Calypso saw how close the Roman soldiers were to the centre of the slaves, they were out of time.

A Titan directly interfering with the will of an Emperor was very dangerous, it would hurt said emperors legitimacy, and cause riots amongst the more pious Romans, resulting in chaos.

Helping the slaves without direct interference was near impossible, but freeing that Demigod, allowing him to fight back was probably their best chance, which Calypso had just stolen from them.

Looking away from the fight, Calypso closed her eyes, muttering a silent prayer for all the lives she'd just condemned.

Opening her eyes, she turned back to the fight.

Golden light burst skyward, and for a brief moment Calypso held hope in her heart; before it was quickly mashed to pieces as she watched a sole Demigod fly from the Arena, leaving plenty more down below, defenceless to the arcing Gladius'.

Annabeth observed the massacre with a mouth agape.

Despite the hundreds of Colosseum battles she'd attended, she had never seen such brutality on part of the Romans.

She couldn't help but squeal as she saw a young male slave butchered into several pieces by two Roman soldiers. They took turns hacking away at his dismembered corpse.

The sight was so ghastly, she heard Calypso gag and turn away from the fight.

Searching for the chained Demigod, Annabeth saw him standing completely still, seemingly uncaring of the butchery surrounding him.

He swayed, as if a light breeze blew against his face.

Luke had clearly also been watching the man, as he announced, "Now that's courage you'd never see in anything other than the Unnamed."

Annabeth, hearing the words, thought to herself _how would you know anything about the Unnamed?_ The words formed with a teasing tone in her mind, and somehow, despite the horrific happenings, Annabeth was amazed at how Luke could make her smile.

Looking back at the man, she noticed why Luke had said what he had; the man stood with eyes closed, now completely still.

Suddenly his eyes snapped open, and a purple light shone from them.

His face contorted into an angry snarl, before he burst forward and began attacking the Romans.

Still chained, the man fought, as Luke had previously said, like a demon possessed. With no weapons, he simply struck enemies with his fists; it was a gruesome sight, as he was quickly coated in a thin mist of blood.

Finally five Romans who had been previously engaged began striding through their other fleeing Romans, approaching the now Unchained man.

Annabeth could see each of them disrupting the air around them, causing a shimmering. They were all Demigods.

The man, seemingly unintimidated by his five opponents, began launching between them, striking one after another.

The fight was nearly too fast for Annabeth to follow, She couldn't understand how the Mortals in the stands would have any chance.

Luke watched intently as the previously chained Demigod battered his opponents.

This was the sort of fight he'd had wanted; a fair, and gritty battle.

The lone man was putting up an immense effort, outnumbered five to one; he'd already killed a Demigod, who had been a pretty high-ranking officer in the Legion.

One of the five Romans kept drawing his attention; he looked extremely familiar.

Narrowing his eyes and focusing his vision, Luke jumped back in his seat a little as the man fired a blast of lightning from his palm.

It was Jason.

Atlas grimaced as he watched the Unnamed fly backwards.

Unprepared for the electricity, the man had taken the blast straight to the chest.

He lay in the sand, jerking furiously.

He'd put up a hell of a fight; killing two and seriously injuring one, but he'd finally fallen.

Two of the remaining Roman Demigods stalked towards his seizing body, before they started to hack away at his body.

Atlas simply watched the two with disgust in his eyes.

He didn't bother to hide it when the Emperor turned to him with a gleeful expression adorning his chubby face.

A loud shout erupted across the entire arena; causing the two Demigods to cease their beating.

"HALT"

Perseus was floating.

He gently lulled up and down.

He felt refreshed, lively.

Inky blackness filled the endless depths below him.

Blue stretched for thousands of miles around him.

It was silent, and still; not a creature disturbed the serenity around him.

His murky surroundings would have disturbed most; the vast emptiness yielding fear and anxiety.

But Perseus relished the serenity; he was free of the slave boundaries that had piled atop him for the past 4 years.

An enormous echo reverberated through him, and he glanced downward.

The darkness below shifted, and soon a gargantuan shadow pulled away, slowly drifting beneath Perseus.

The creature was immense. Its fleeing presence drew Perseus in, it's pull dragging him towards it's dark figure.

As he approached, the creature's image began to focus, and Perseus noted it's smooth surface, like that of a whale.

Two enormous limbs propelled the beast, swinging back and forth.

It's head, surely at least a kilometre from Perseus, was obscured by sheer distance.

Perseus trailed the beast's movements, pulled by its stream.

Despite the speed, the journey was peaceful.

He saw nothing other than the gargantuan beast.

After what must have been hours of silent travel, the beast began descending into the depths, dragging Perseus down with it.

Darkness slowly enveloped him, rising above his head, the surrounding blue fading.

Perseus continued sinking, until he could no longer see even the great beast that pulled him.

Emptiness of a new kind greeted Perseus, as the tug of the beast left, weightlessness returned.

A feminine voice hauntingly echoed through the silence

 _Welcome_


	7. Vineyards

**DISCLAIMER - I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians, Everything in this story, bar the Plot, and a few Characters, belongs to Rick Riordan.**

 **Feel Free to Review, I love hearing what I'm doing well, and what I'm doing horribly.**

 **Warning - This chapter is pretty long, and probably pretty boring, so sorry about that hahaha.**

 **Finally, Sorry for the pretty long hiatus; I've been doing a fair bit of University work, I'm hoping to be a bit more consistent from now on, but no promises :( thanks for sticking with me if you're returning from before my break :)**

 _ **Chapter 7 -**_ **Vineyards.**

"Lords you're slow aren't you! What's all that bulk for if you can't use it"

The corner of Perseus' lip curled, slight irritation marring his face.

"Back again small man. Don't you have some other poor fool to annoy?"

The dark skinned man - no, Perseus had come to realise this _Man_ was more a boy, ran a hand through his brown curls, his ever present grin growing, surprisingly, even larger.

"But I've found a poor fool here, why make my job harder? Besides, I truly do find it intriguing that you're so bad at this new life of yours. I'd have thought a blooded like yourself could do such trivial work with ease."

Perseus simply glared, and shook his shackled wrist at the boy.

"Come now, we both know those didn't stop you before, why would they stop you now?"

Perseus glanced at his cuffs, before returning his attention the enormous cask before him.

Lifting the gargantuan barrel aloft his shoulder, he steadied himself, before turning towards the entrance to the cellar.

"Whoa, that has to be at least a tonne, what did they feed you in the arena?!"

The impish boy sounded genuinely bemused, but Perseus knew him better than to rise to the bait.

"I'll drop it on you if you're not careful."

The boy chuckled, circling Perseus while performing an odd jig.

"I wonder what you were looking at for so long… suppose I gaze out over the fields and find a view of the ladies picking grapes?"

For the first time in he didn't know how long, Perseus loosed a genuine grin.

"Suppose you did?"

The boy stopped circling, his own grin, again, widening.

"Well, I might perhaps inform the landowner? Wouldn't do well that a brigand such as yourself was eyeing up the worker girls"

Perseus' grin faltered for a moment

"Even if I did believe you small man, wouldn't mind meeting my benefactor. Haven't seen him since I arrived."

For the first time in the three months Perseus had known him, the small man frowned.

"Curious. Though I suppose they'd probably rather not draw the attention, after all the raucous she caused. Have you not been in the big house?"

Perseus set the huge barrel down on a wooden platform, before shouting into the cellar. He stepped back as the platform slowly lowered into a dark hole.

"I'm in there everyday, pouring wine for empty tables. Pretty fancy place up there." He nodded up the hill towards a beautiful villa.

"I thought you'd have known that, aren't you staying there as a guest?"

Perseus turned to see the boy staring up at the villa, a strange look marring his face.

"A guest, yeah I suppose."

"You suppose a lot of things. And talk a lot."

The boy turned back to Perseus, his smile having returned.

"So do you these days Jari, become rather talkative."

"How do you know that name?"

Perseus advanced

"Who are you small man?"

The boy didn't move, his eyes simply following Perseus large figure as it approached.

"What do you think I am?"

Perseus squinted.

"I don't know who you are, that's why I asked, you annoying little turd."

Again, as if it were the only thing the boy ever did, his grin widened.

"I know you don't know _who_ I am, I didn't ask that."

Perseus' advance halted, and he simply stared at the boy.

"You're weird. That's what I think you are. And annoying."

He took a moment to pause, and glanced up and down at the boy.

"And you're a demigod. But I can't see you. Or more, I can't see your essence"

The boy's eyes lit up, and he resumed his odd jig.

"Very good Jari, very good. I suppose you've earned an answer yourself.

Perseus watched the boy for a few moments, silence deafening him.

"Most," he paused between hopping from leg to leg "Call me Wit. Though you" he stopped his dance for a moment, as if in contemplation.

"You should call me Leo."

Perseus frowned.

The name meant nothing.

"That's it? Your name is Leo? And how do you know my Untold name?

Leo smiled further, "It's not my name. It's a name, and I suppose you may use it in reference to me"

"You're useless."

Perseus stalked back to the row of Casks ready to be sent down into the cellar.

"Yeah you'd better hurry and finish that up, appears our hosts have finally arrived after their weary travels."

Perseus glanced back at Leo, preparing to lift the next Cask, as he saw a huge pillar of light flash above the Villa on the hill.

Fleeting rays of orange light flittered across the rolling fields of grapevine, darkness slowly growing bolder as the Sun retreated to other planes.

Perseus trudged towards the workers dorm, a woollen towel slung over his shoulder.

As he neared the entrance to the building, a wiry man with a balding head leaned through one of the exterior windows.

The man caught Perseus eye and waved, "Ave Perseus."

Perseus nodded in response, slowing his walk.

"Restis, how are you?"

The older mans lips curled upward, "I'm Well. You're wanted up at the Villa again. I told them you'd be up by the 18th hour, so if you want to bathe I'd hurry."

Perseus screwed up his face, "Restis I can't bathe until the 18th hour, It's the girls turn right now"

Restis cocked an eyebrow, "I forget you have to share the balneae. Well why do you all bathe so late anyway, you're supposed to have a bath during the day while it's warm."

Perseus simply stared back at the man.

"Right, well then take this" Restis lifted a chain from his neck. A Bronze depiction of the globe hung from it. "Take this and use the Villa's balneae. Make sure you enter the men's, and not the women's. You'd become an even bigger headache."

Perseus clung to the chain, gazing into it. A metallic draw filled his fingertips, the feel of bronze familiar to them.

"How do I know the difference?"

He tore away from the emblem, returning his gaze to Restis.

"Well if you hear screams when you walk in, probably the wrong one" Restis chuckled, and before Perseus, his face reddened, could respond, ducked back into the building.

Looking down at his hands, then at his Chilton.

Surprisingly, it wasn't too dirty, as his work today had been fairly clean.

Grumbling, he turned and began trekking towards the upscale bathhouses.

"Can I take that for you sir?"

Perseus turned sharply to the left, the noise having startled him. His usual heightened senses dulled by the cuffs on his wrists.

His eyes rested on a girl of no more than 19. Perseus instantly noticed she lacked a traditional Stola, like most women wore, and instead bore the same style tunic as himself.

"I've seen you in the big house, I thought you were a server girl, not a slave?" Perseus narrowed his eyes, perhaps she'd been punished for some trivial mistake, Romans were harsh like that.

The girls cheeks reddened slightly, clearly not used to Perseus blunt speech. "I'm not a slave, there aren't any here. "

She narrowed her eyes as she gained a proper look at Perseus' appearance.

"Also these are the private baths sir, I'm sorry."

She bowed slightly, and gestured to the entrance.

"Restis sent me, have to clean up here he said" He shook the chain around his neck.

The girl glanced at the chain, then shrugged, before turning and stepping further into the building.

"Follow me then, and hand me your towel and tunic."

Without waiting, she had left the entrance hall, and was out of sight. Perseus, shocked at how quickly she had accepted his presence, jogged to catch up.

He handed her his towel, then glanced around the new room he found himself in.

In the centre of a room were three pools of water, the centre one steaming. Behind the three pools was a waist high bench with a cushion at one end.

"Well?" The girl held her hand out patiently, an impatient expression adorning her face.

Perseus simply looked back at her, his face crimson.

"Give me your tunic." She looked him up and down "And your sandals, and the chain."

Perseus fumbled a bit with his rope belt, slightly confused at the entire ordeal. "Sorry, I'm not used to your Roman lifestyle. I wasn't allowed to bathe in the colosseum"

Pulling the barely white tunic over his head, he found himself looking at a shocked glare of the girls face.

She made a hissing sound, before her eyes darted around the room.

"Are you an idiot? You can't just say that"

She snatched his tunic from his hands, then stepped forward and yanked at the chain around his neck.

"Bend down a little you giant, quickly"

She'd gone from bored to panicked in a split second.

Perseus frowned, wondering what he'd said.

But he followed her instructions; he didn't want to get her angry again.

The second she had the chain from his neck she knelt down and began untying the sandal straps around his calves, making Perseus even more uncomfortable.

"alright, in the right bath, quick."

She darted around the pools, and placed all his clothes in a big wooden chest, and began muttering to herself.

"No that wont do, I'll get you a new Tunic, that ones filthy. Or will you wear a Toga tonight? Of course not, you're not a Roman, that would be an insult." Perseus bore holes in her back for a few moments, watching as she held his tunic up to the torchlight, searching for stains.

After a few minutes, she turned back and scowled seeing him still not in the bath.

"Enjoying the view? Hurry up and get in"

Shaking his head clear, Perseus stepped into the pool, finding warm water. He was knee deep when he heard the girl hiss again, and looked up at her

"Take those bracelets off for the gods sakes" She knelt down to his height and grabbed his wrist, leaning across the water.

She yanked on the iron cuffs, then began twisting them, searching for the clasp that held them.

"They can't come off. They're to stop me from usi-"

"Stop. Enough, I get it" She quickly cut him off, backing away with wide eyes.

"Just get in and clean yourself."

He sat down in the pool, the warm water rising to his chest. Scrubbing his arms he looked up to find the girl pulling small glass bottles from a shelf on the wall and placing them on the floor near the bench at the back of the room.

"Uhhh… You're supposed to stay in here while I bathe?"

She turned to him, a puzzled smile adorning her tanned features.

"Well yes, I _am_ a bath attendant. How else do you do the oils and strigil?"

Perseus simply gazed back at her, with vacant eyes.

"A strigil?"

The girl sighed and turned to face the back wall.

"Do you Barbarians not bathe?"

"Why does a man have such long hair? Takes too bloody long to dry!"

Perseus sat and glanced upward at the girl furiously rubbing his scalp with the white towel.

"Won't dry like that."

She scowled down at him.

"Doesn't suit you anyway, only creepy rich men with too much care for their looks wear hair so long."

Perseus frowned.

He _had_ noticed how few Romans wore hair to their shoulders. It confused him; these people were so alike the Greeks he'd lived with in the past, yet subtle differences made his head swivel; one culture admired one thing, while the other despised it.

"It's the hair of my people. It is shameful to cut hair; we descended upon the world with this hair, and we will keep it when we descend upon the next."

The girl's eyes widened slightly, and she glanced towards the doorway.

"This is unnamed speak, yes?"

Perseus smiled slightly.

"I assume so."

"You assume? What does that mean?"

Perseus stood, and, feeling his wet locks with his right hand, pushed heat into his scalp, instantly drying it.

The girl held a hand to her mouth in shock, shrinking away from Perseus slightly.

"I've never met another unnamed."

Still inching away from him, the girls voice quaked.

"Then how do you know it is the hair of your people?"

Tying a knot in his rope belt, Perseus crouched down and began putting his sandals on.

"We know these things. All unnamed do. A freshly hatched sea turtle knows to crawl to the sea, a newborn human knows to suckle at it's mothers breast, and the Unnamed know."

The girl had recovered from her shock at his free use of the essence, and was now collecting the small glass bottles, replacing them in their initial spots.

"The unnamed know what?"

"They know."

She turned to face him, again, a puzzled look marring her face.

"You know? As in you know everything?"

He shook his head.

"I can't explain; it wouldn't make sense. It is the same reason you call us Unnamed."

Her eyes lit up at this point.

"As in we don't understand what your people are called?"

He grinned. "Exactly."

She smiled, "I would understand! I promise I won't tell anyone, if that's the issue."

Perseus chuckled.

"That's not the issue. It's as I say, you can't understand. I've told people before, no one understands."

She frowned.

"Try me."

She stared at his face intently, and watched as his lips opened, tongue forming shapes.

But no noise escaped said lips. He simply mimed speech.

"Well of course I won't understand if you don't say anything. No need to be rude about it. You should go up to the big house anyway. Probably due by now."

She turned and began walking toward the doorway, until she felt a hand grip her arm.

Turning, she saw his lips still moving, and an amused expression dancing upon his handsome face.

He gripped her hand and placed in on his throat.

Her fingertips touching his voice box, she felt the vibrations as his mouth opened and closed.

She looked at him, still puzzled.

"You're actually speaking"

He stopped his silent speech, and grinned at her, nodding.

"I told you. You can't understand. You don't have permission."

"Permission? From who?"

He walked passed her, to the doorway.

"Hard to say, you simply wouldn't hear it. Besides, I don't really know myself."

He stood in the doorway, as if waiting for her.

"What?"

"Are you coming? As you said, I'm probably late to the big house by now."

"Why do I need to come?"

"Well, I don't know where to go, I've only ever carried things to the kitchens and guest rooms."

Glancing around the room, the girl gestured toward the bench.

"But I'm working. I can't just leave, what if someone comes in?"

He shrugged.

"You're the only one working here right now?"

She shuffled from foot to foot.

"Well no, there are about 12 other rooms with other bath attendants."

He smiled, nodded, and then walked from the room.

She looked to the doorway, then back at the bench, and then to the small pools of water, before rushing out behind him.

Catching up, she sidled up next to him, trying to walk in stride.

He continued to smile, looking straight ahead.

"I like this place. It's quite odd."

She smiled in turn. "The bath house? Yeah, it is pretty nice compared to the other one we use."

He chuckled. "I meant this vineyard. Though I suppose the bathhouse is okay. Too uptight for me; the only woman a man should bathe with is his shieldmaiden."

Her cheeks pinked.

"What's a shieldmaiden? Is that like a wife?"

"A wife is who has your children no?"

She smiled. "Yes, the woman who looks after your kids while you men run off and fight each other." Her smile faded toward the end of her sentence.

"Stupid concept. Why don't your women fight?"

She turned to him, incredulously

"Your women fight?"

Slowing his pace, he frowned, and glanced upward at the dark sky. He'd been in the bathhouse a long time. "Of course, how couldn't they?"

"That sounds amazing! Your women have the same status as men?"

Crinkling his brow, Perseus thought for a moment.

"Sort of; Status is not dictated by gender or age or wealth. Life is different for Unnamed I think. There isn't money or trade, the only possessions a man has are his sword and shield. Perhaps axes as well, this I'm not sure of, It is not as known."

A somewhat horrified look spread across the girls tanned face.

"Your people live for war, same as everyone else. If not more."

Disappointment dripped from her tongue.

"No. War is not to be revered. It is a necessity, but it is not loved. Doing so brings madness. This is known, and I have found this out personally."

His gaze dropped to the sandy path beneath his feet.

Images of intestines spilling from torn open stomachs, and lifeless eyes staring from severed heads flooded his brain.

"I'm sorry."

From the corner of his eyes, he saw a saddened expression marring her otherwise pretty face.

"I never asked. Do you have a name, or will I not understand?"

She forced a smile to her lips, an attempt at lightening the mood.

It worked.

"Unfortunately, This is permitted, as I freely gave my name long ago. Though I use my Greek name these days."

She arched a brow.

"Perseus." He smiled.

"Boring name. Did you choose it?"

He chuckled.

"Definitely not. Though the person who did might not like your criticism."

"And your other name?"

He grimaced slightly. He anticipated her Reaction.

"Jari."

She smiled. His eyes widened.

"Yar-ee… It sounds nice."

"You don't know it's meaning?"

She stopped walking, and he turned to see her pointing forward, towards a large marble archway.

"Go through the large door, and turn left after the Atrium."

He nodded to her, and began pacing through the archway.

"I never caught your name?"

She grinned and simply turned away, responding without looking back.

"Probably wouldn't understand it anyway."

He just watched as she walked away, glancing at her tanned legs, barely visible in the dark light.

She turned to face him, continuing to walk backwards, and opened her mouth as if to speak.

Perseus flooded his eyes with essence, zooming in, focusing on her lips, and strained his enhanced ears for anything audible.

No noise left her mouth, though his pulsating; glowing eyes caught the movement of her lips perfectly.

"Calypso."


	8. Feasts

**READ THE AUTHORS NOTE AT THE BOTTOM OF THIS CHAPTER PLEASE.**

 **IT EXPLAINS MY CURRENR HIATUS.**

 **DISCLAIMER - I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians, Everything in this story, bar the Plot, and a few Characters, belongs to Rick Riordan.**

 **Feel Free to Review, I love hearing what I'm doing well, and what I'm doing horribly.**

 **Warning - Again, another pretty boring chapter. They will be for a little while, sorry :)**

 ** _Chapter 8 - Feasts_**

Unnatural light streamed from a small podium sitting in the middle of an enormous table, straight upward, lighting the room. A sundial, that was strangely not using sunlight, projected the time onto the smooth wall to Perseus' left.

The long table was filled with various foods; grapes and fruit platters, to a stuffed peacock in the centre of the table.

A traditional Roman feast.

Perseus sat alone, on the end of the table, a glass filled with the Vineyards finest wine, and a porcelain plate stacked high with various meats and pates sitting untouched in front of him.

He had been sitting for an entire hour on the sundial, after being seated by an annoyingly silent servant.

Leaning back in his chair, he began pouring essence into his Runed cuffs.

These were very unlike those he'd grown used to in the Arena; They were finely crafted out of delicate silver, runes carved with utmost precision, suggesting immense strength.

However they didn't bind his use of essence, more limiting it.

He concentrated on a grape sitting at the opposite end of the table, and watched as he floated it across the table, and dropped it on his plate.

He turned his attention to the peacock, and after glancing around, lifted the entire platter, leaving it hovering a few feet above the table.

He lifted another platter filled with assortments of cheese and switched the positions of either platter.

"Curious. The last time we met, you were using essence to cave skulls, yet now you use it to tease my servants. How circumstance changes men."

Perseus whipped his head to the side, his eyes landing on an enormous man, at least 8ft tall. A servant to his left rushed forward, shifting the positions of the platters, and sent Perseus a disdainful look.

"Uhh I'm sorry sir, I had thought nobody was coming"

Perseus stood at his table and bowed slightly to the titanic man.

How strange, Perseus thought, that his life had become so mundane.

"So you agree with my sentiments."

The gargantuan man lowered himself into the throne at the opposite end of the table, chuckling as he did so.

Perseus stood by his chair awkwardly for a moment. He'd never cared for etiquette, yet here he stood, paralysed with uncertainty of his every move in the presence of this being.

"Sit boy, I have no care for trivial roman pleasantries."

Perseus sat, and watched as the man gripped a large leg of lamb and began tearing into it.

He didn't eat like the rest of these pesky Romans.

"Are you going to eat, or just sit there like a log."

Perseus shook himself from his gaze and began to gnaw at some glazed peacock.

"I've never met a Roman like you sir. Though I've never met a human like you either."

The man roared with laughter.

"Keen eyes boy. I'm neither Roman nor human. Just like you."

Perseus nodded.

"I recognise you. You were in the Emperors stand at the Colosseum."

The man smiled.

"Aye, Guest of honor for that little brat."

Perseus smiled.

"You saved me?"

The man tore a chunk out of an apple.

"You saved yourself. I just had you moved before your head was lopped off."

Perseus took a sip from his wine, grimacing as he did so.

"Aye, whine isn't a mans drink is it boy? Even us Greeks drink that piss."

Perseus Grinned across the table.

"I think I would prefer mead or ale, like those north men drink."

The man nodded slightly.

"Close."

Perseus arched his brow.

"Now. I suppose you might have a question or two, may as well get them over with now."

Perseus looked at him for a moment.

"Why am I here?"

"Better here than in the Colosseum. Waste of talent in that cesspit. Besides, my Daughter would castrate me if I hadn't have."

Perseus nodded.

"You were the one helping me with the Binding chains?"

He nodded.

"The blonde Demigod who was in there with me; said he was employed to help me… He your friend?"

The man's bearded face furrowed.

"No… No I had no man in the Arena."

Perseus nodded. Another enigma.

"Leo… or wit, or whatever he calls himself. What is he?"

The mans brow furrowed further.

"I'm sorry who?"

Perseus opened his mouth to respond, but couldn't think of anything else to say.

"Uhh… a short tanned man with curly brown hair? He said people called him wit?"

The man grinned.

"Ahh the Emperors wit! A strange little fellow isn't he. Quite intriguing, even to me. How did you meet him?"

Perseus chuckled.

"He's been tormenting me while I work since I got here."

The man raised his eyebrows in surprise, and shot up from his seat.

"He was here? When did you last see him!"

Perseus was taken aback by the sudden outburst.

"Not two hours ago, He walked off when you flashed into the villa"

The man had an extremely concerned look.

"No doubt he knows who you are. Hopefully he was too busy chasing Calypso to bother about you too much."

"Calypso?"

The man's dire expression softened, until a small smile graced his hairy face.

"Aye, my daughter Calypso. That cheeky boy has been intrigued with her since they met back in Rome."

Perseus' face dropped. Shock pulsating through him for a moment.

Luckily, the man didn't notice.

"She's been looking after the place while I was still in Rome. She hates that city. She was supposed to join us now, but I don't know where she's wondered off to."

Panic was setting through his very core, Calypso, if it was the same girl, had bathed and scrubbed Perseus down, and he doubted this man would appreciate such a thing.

"Sir, one last question?"

The man nodded.

"Who are you?"

"I'm assuming you don't just mean my name? Well I'm Atlas, He who lifts the world."

Perseus widened his eyes.

"You're the Titan?"

"Aye. As you guessed, I'm not human."

Perseus glanced down. "Shouldn't you be… well… holding up the world?"

Again, Atlas roared with laughter, the sheer booming volume far louder than before.

"I am boy. I don't literally sit under this planet and hold it up, does it look like I'm big enough to do that?"

"Well how do you do it then?"

"I exist."

Most people would probably question further, but the answer and ticked something in Perseus' brain. It somehow made sense.

He nodded.

Atlas grinned. "Aye. You Unnamed know. Better even than us Titans and Gods."

Perseus smiled.

"You seem to know a lot about my people. Have you met others?"

Atlas began walking towards a balcony garden, Perseus followed.

"I have. I've met many, but I've rarely talked to you. Secretive people, understandably. It is impossible for one of us 'named' I suppose you could call us, to know a lot about your people though."

This surprised Perseus.

He opened his mouth to speak, but Atlas replied before he could.

"Yes, even us Titans, Gods, Primordials; all of us haven't received 'permission' as you say. Your tongue is as silent as a mute. Very frustrating. You should hear Athena's anger about her severe lack of knowledge in the area."

There was silence for a moment, and Perseus looked out over the Vineyard from the garden balcony. The view was breathtaking.

"You're a Greek technically, but the Romans honour you?"

Atlas nodded.

"The Gods took Roman forms. But most of us Titans didn't care enough. The Romans accept this because they know we could topple their empire within moments."

Perseus nodded.

"They don't think you favour Greece?"

Atlas smiled.

"And people call Unnamed mindless barbarians. Of course they do. And they're correct. Rome is a stain. But Greece isn't much better, so we don't get involved in human wars."

Perseus fell silent. He'd talked enough lately. And talking wasn't something he enjoyed.

"Well…"

"Jari" Perseus offered. He may as well, seeing as everyone else used his Untold name.

"Well Jari, I have to return to my affairs. You may do as you please. Those cuffs can be removed and you may leave if you wish, though I wouldn't recommend it yet."

Perseus thought for a moment.

"I'll stay for a while, if I'm allowed?"

Atlas nodded.

"Of course, you're a free man now. You don't need to work the Vineyards by the way, I'm not sure why you started doing that in the first place."

Perseus widened his eyes, mouth agape.

"I brought you here in case you wanted instruction in Essence. I assume, seeing your previous predicament that you hadn't received any. However you do seem rather adept already."

Perseus bowed slightly.

"Aye, I've never been taught anything sir, I would be in your debt."

Atlas grinned through his beard.

"Nonsense, your presence here alone is enough repayment. An Unnamed friend is worth more than an empire."

Atlas walked from the Balcony, and began walking through a door Perseus had never been through, or even noticed.

"Ahh, and Jari."

"I've instructed all the men and women here they are not to talk to you about your previous life. I'd request you didn't mention it. Your presence here, while safe, would cause an extremely strained relation with the Roman empire."

The bath girls reaction to his cuffs and mentions of his time in the arena returned to his mind, and he nodded understandably.

"Come here to this door" – he gestured to the doorway he stood in. " in two days time if you want to learn"

 ** _Authors note:_**

 ** _sorry guys, I know it's been a while, but unfortunately both my computer and laptop are currently broken, and I'm unable to update this story / I literally have about five thousand words waiting to be put into the next chapter, which is almost done, but unfortunately I can't access any of it because it's only saved on a word document on the broken laptop. I'm using the phone app for fanfiction to write this right now. hopefully I should be able to get this updated soon but for now things are looking grim._**


End file.
